Pandora's Box
by Kyon of the Crack
Summary: "Just what the hell has gotten into you?" WORST spat out. "Misaka is starting to think this 2012 stuff might have some truth to it…" ToumaXYuriko, one-shot, Valentine's day Animesuki challenge.


**Pandora's Box**

**Written by: Kyon of the Crack.**

**Beta by: Rubix of the (Flat) Jokes ****– ******A.K.A. ******Rubix91.******

**Shame for not betaing and daring having a life beyond weeabooism: Chaos of the Hubby ****– A.K.A. ****Chaos2Frozen.**

**Shrug to: Flere of the Angst ****– ******A.K.A. ******Flere821.******

******Crack's Right Seat – REPRESENT!******

* * *

><p>Rare were the times it occurred that Misaka WORST was genuinely puzzled by what she was seeing. Scratch that, she had been utterly speechless ever since Accelerator had come out of 'The Lair' earlier today, otherwise known as the bedroom occupied by Academy City's strongest. Yomikawa, Yoshikawa and Last Order seemed to share a similar reaction as WORST's – in their own way. The two 'old bats', as Accelerator labeled them, were rather amused and stifled snickers while sipping away hot tea from their throne over the household – the living room table. Accelerator's biggest fangirl in the whole wide world, who had handed the Level 5 her homemade chocolates earlier in the day, was content with gaping at the gangly albino and pulling at her sleeve, squeeing to herself when she got the obligatory tap on her head; their typical lovey-dovey arrangement and whatnot.<p>

WORST had none of those feelings. Instead, her brain was trying to figure what was going on, and was considering if this was all a really weird dream.

Evidence, both empirical and rational, suggested that this wasn't the case – this was indeed reality.

Regardless of her tilted view from the couch, what WORST saw was, shall we say, _slightly abnormal_ for the vector-manipulating esper's _modus operandi_.

"Oi, Yuriko-nee," called out the aodai-wearing clone as she limbered her limbs and sprawled further on the couch.

A loud click came from the pale girl's mouth.

"Don't call me that, you glib-tongued moron," the churlish response immediately followed; the white-haired esper did not even bother to look in WORST's general direction as she said that.

Yuriko hated the nickname… coming from WORST's mouth at least.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," WORST swatted her hand at her. "Guessing it's that time of the month again."

That comment did earn a more profound response from the Number One Level 5 esper, the upright middle finger being flipped at the malicious clone a clear show of that.

Still, it was better than getting your arm snapped by a black-winged monster that had its mind snapped.

From the sidelines, Yomikawa couldn't stop herself from butting in. "I guess what Miss Smarty-Pants here is trying to say –"

"Just what the hell has gotten into you?" WORST spat out. "Misaka is starting to think this 2012 stuff might have some truth to it…"

The young albino maiden narrowed her eyes at them, and her lips turned into a flat line.

"Is there something wrong with this?" Yuriko asked; a little bit of self-awareness showed as she surveyed herself intently.

"'Misaka thinks it really suits you!' says Misaka Misaka as she finds it really cute!" Last Order had literal stars in her eyes as she admired her role model.

It might be a mystery to most, but The Accelerator was indeed a girl despite her, _ahem_, androgynous appearance – an ill-effect of her Vector Change powers. The fact Yuriko always wore trousers and long-sleeved shirts, coupled with shoulder-length hair and the incisive quality of her voice, the whole package was convincing. That was why it stunned Misaka WORST that Accelerator was dressed like she was now.

For a moment, she actually looked… _cute_?

The mere considering of that possibility revolted WORST to her darkness-filled core, due to her very existence having been designed to spite The Accelerator. Though Yuriko was wearing a boyish oxford-gray hoodie, the white blouse underneath appropriately made up for it; when matched with her fashionable skirt and stripped kneesocks she wore, it went together like butter and bread. The only flashy and girly aspect of the Number One esper – unless you consider dull grays and whites girly tones – was the little pink flower ornament in her purely white hair, which was combed so two long bangs descended from the sides. Even in that redundant gray and white palette, it was an all-around definite improvement.

"But really, Misaka didn't know you had this kind of sappy wardrobe stashed away," said WORST with a vile smirk crawling on her lips.

"Well congratulations, the more you know," Yuriko said curtly. As she talked, Yuriko straightened the handbag hanging loosely from her shoulders. She was going to stock up on her caffeine needs, so she brought along an eco-friendly bag to the convenience store instead of wasting away some plastic bags. Actually, it wasn't her idea; it was simply a habit Yomikawa had forced her to adopt.

"Anything you want, brat?" The moment Yuriko turned to address the ten-year-old Misaka clone, her voice toned down considerably and showed an almost motherly essence to it.

"'Vanilla ice cream!' exclaims Misaka Misaka as she insists on the ice cream part!"

"Alright, no need to flip out over it, you brat!" Yuriko proceeded to hush Last Order with a mock karate chop to the head, making the stricken pouty.

Yuriko then turned to WORST and continued. "And you, oh-so dear and irreplaceable little sister?"

"Sorry, but Misaka can't be bought with simple favors like that," WORST dismissed the Number One with a huff. "Still, Misaka can still hardly believe you need more caffeine after you devoured all those chocolates your _little angel _made~"

Academy City's One-Way Road rolled her eyes. Yes, she may have gone overboard with that, but they were _Last Order_'s. It was supremely hard to keep your cool when such an adorable little girl presents a box of homemade chocolates with a shy blush covering her cheekbones. The fresh memory weighted heavily on Yuriko's nose.

"Whatever suits you," Yuriko breathed out, "I'm going out."

"Bah, but wait! Misaka has something to say~!" WORST mockingly beseeched.

"Oh goodie…" Yuriko rubbed her temples. "Well, sock it to me."

It was then that dry chuckles turned into outright cackles came from the Third Season clone. "Today's Valentine's Day isn't it Yuriko-nee~?" she began with a slurred, teasing voice.

"Shove it up your ass," Yuriko preemptively cussed, completely indifferent. It took every ounce of her willpower as to not smother WORST with the nearby pillows.

Nevertheless, WORST went on with her platitudes, "And suddenly, you dress into clothes that make you seem _somewhat_ feminine, righttt~?"

Yuriko knew what was coming. It was to be expected from some shallow and easily-amused personality as the Level 4 electromaster before her.

"Don't tell me" – a borderline psychotic smirk consumed Misaka WORST's visage – "that you dressed like that because you're planning something all by yourself~?"

The peanut gallery composed of the two old bats and a cute little brat faked gasps of shock, as if Sherlock Holmes had unraveled the mystery behind an impossible murder scene.

The strongest esper rolled her eyes for the hundredth time this afternoon. "Oh, right," Yuriko's tone reeked with palpable sarcasm, "someone like me definitely circles Valentine's day on their calendar."

"When you put it like that, you sound doubly suspicious," Yomikawa cracked from the sidelines.

"You know, there are several works in psychology describing such a pattern Aiho."

The old school comrades grinned devilishly, and despite that the white-haired girl shot daggers at them, it didn't change their disposition.

Under the accusing looks of the entire household, the albino girl left – steadfast.

A hallow silence followed.

The two sisters' gaze connected with each other, and it clicked between them. No more words were necessary between them to understand what needed to be done.

•••

_I must look like such a dork right now…_

That was the self-deprecating mantra Suzushina Yuriko had adopted ever since she had left the Yomikawa residence. Just now, she was sauntering the streets of Academy City like some headless chicken. It all seemed like a haze now that she was decked out in these clothes that felt so foreign to her. She couldn't recall when she had ever worn a skirt, or kneesocks for that matter. Maybe before her powers truly manifested? That sounded about right to her. Right then, the frisky February breeze crawling up her smooth white legs reminded her why she profoundly hated this kind of getup.

Again, she returned to her mantra: _I must look like such a dork right now. I know it, I know it, I just bloody know it!_

So why exactly was the strongest esper bothering with the realm of womanhood, when she had never truly cared about her general appearance before? The answer resided within the handbag Yuriko had hooked over her shoulders. It was just a convenient handbag to hide a little _something_ that would make her lose face in public. If some dubious person snatched a photo of her with _that_, then it'd be the aftermath of the Level 6 Shift all over again. Moronic Skill-Outs would flock by the dozens to try and smash her face in because they would think the Number One had suddenly been depowered.

Yuriko threw a tentative glance at the handbag, yet again, before burying herself back into her wool scarf. It was so stupid, really. She had to scheme like some deranged Hong Kong bootlegger so Yomikawa, Yoshikawa, Last Order and specifically Misaka WORST wouldn't be aware of _that_. It had taken some minute timing and acrobatics, but Yuriko was convinced they had no clue what had happened in the kitchen the day before. She felt pride regarding her guileful execution of the whole thing.

Hell, Yomikawa seemed perplexed by the fact the kitchen seemed cleaner than when she had left the apartment. Yoshikawa wasn't someone actively on the lookout for oddities, so she had been the easiest to fool. The toughest part of Yuriko's plan was to get resident troll Misaka WORST and cheeky little Last Order out of the apartment long enough. Yuriko had settled on instilling the idea of a 'Sister's day out' on Last Order so she could have lone time with the 'youngest' addition to the Misaka Sisters; and as planned, Last Order had done exactly that yesterday, even if WORST actively resisted. In the end, the temptress had to obey, lest she wanted the emotional wavelength caused by Last Order's tantrums to turn her frothing mad – at least more so than she already is.

All that trouble… just to make some homemade (and rudimentary) chocolates for that _fucking_ _hero_.

February 14 – Valentine's Day – homemade chocolates.

Yuriko's cheeks puffed akin to a squirrel's jowls at the cheesiness of the entire situation. It's not like she could help it. She felt compelled to do something for that spiky-haired boy, even though she was utterly callow and not well-versed about these kinds of social rituals, since she had never – _**EVER! **_– given valentine chocolates to anyone before.

_I'm overthinking this, _Yuriko chastised herself. _This doesn't have to mean anything. 'Friends' give each other valentines all the time, right? RIGHT?-! Hah, of course I'm right…_

The slim albino teen nodded firmly to herself and hurried her pace – as fast as hobbling on her crutch would take her. By this time of the day, Kamijou should be at his dormitory.

•••

For some reason, while waiting at an intersection, the mental image of her younger self handing Kihara Amata valentine chocolates came to mind.

A shiver went down the Number One's spine. Thank God that was just her imagination.

•••

After trotting around District 7 and remembering the route to Kamijou's abode, Suzushina Yuriko reached her destination and focused her attention upward, straight to the seventh storey of the eight storey building. Skittishly shuffling and finding herself oddly fascinated by the ground, Yuriko found an operational lift and dialed for the seventh floor. From there, Yuriko remembered the path to the Kamijou residence quite clearly. It scared her in a way that the path was so clear in her mind, when it had been weeks since she had first come here, along with Hamazura and Birdway.

Step by step, she closed in on that hero's front door. Yuriko's plan simple: She'd knock, he'd open, she would quickly dig out the gift box and then shove it onto him before swiftly making her getaway.

On the way back home, Yuriko would buy stacks of canned coffee – and the ice cream – so the illusion remained perfect.

_Yes, I surely planned for everything, _Yuriko simpered to herself. _Clean, simple, hassle-free. Completely, totally, and undeniably foolproof –_

"Yo, Yu~ri~ko~chan! What's with the skirt nyaa~?" a familiar voice whistled out.

Dread spread over Yuriko in the form of instantaneous cold sweat. And that's when Yuriko remembered she hadn't anticipated certain factors in that dorky, borderline lovey-dovey plan of hers.

As in, Tsuchimikado Motoharu being Kamijou Touma's neighbor.

Oops.

_How could I forget thaaat! _Yuriko's bleating resounded in her inner thoughts.

She wanted to repeatedly smack herself into a brick wall for having overlooked such a thing. Yuriko's attention was so focused on those damn chocolates, keeping up appearances, and that spiky-haired blockhead that she hadn't thought of the troll that had taken residence in the adjacent apartment. However, this was not the time for self-flagellation. Tsuchimikado might be a bastard, but he wasn't suicidal. If he told anyone anything, Yuriko would have it come around to her in a heartbeat, one way or another. The immediate aftermath of such a scenario would likely be Tsuchimikado crying like a schoolgirl, strung upside-down from the apex of the Windowless Building with Yuriko playing around with a pair of shears.

As flatly as possible, Yuriko jerked her head sideways and greeted her old GROUP teammate with a deathly glare.

Tsuchimikado had been given worse looks by the albino, so he promptly shrugged it off. "Oh c'mon, don't give me the silent treatment," the aloha-wearing, multi-organization spy said with a mischievous glitter in his eyes.

"What could we possibly say to each other that wouldn't be trivial and inane?" scoffed Yuriko.

Leaning back on his front door, Tsuchimikado snapped his fingers and jabbed his right index right at her.

"You could start by telling me why you're here nyaa~" the magician-esper hybrid suggested off the bat.

Yuriko flicked her hair back and snorted. "I don't have to tell you anything," she noted as a matter-of-fact.

"Not even gonna trust a fellow public servant?" Tsuchimikado quipped with irony.

"_Former_ public servant – do remember that," Yuriko's tone bristled ever so slightly. "Besides, you'd be the last person I'd entrust with my secrets. I'm sure even with your limited mental capabilities you must realize such a fact."

"Oh, so what you're about to do regarding Kami-yan is supposed to remain secret hmm~?" Tsuchimikado chirped happily.

"Your tone is disgusting," deadpanned Yuriko. As a side thought, the teenage albino made a clear mental note to _never_ formerly introduce WORST to Tsuchimikado, or vice versa; Armageddon might suddenly occur from that alone.

Meanwhile, Tsuchimikado was off on a tangent. "Nyaa I really hit the jackpot on that one, haven't I? Oh, oh, are you going to do the ol' accidental skirt flip?" Tsuchimikado theorized aloud. "That only works with proper lingerie nyaa."

A bundle of veins began to throb on Yuriko's forehead. She was starting to lose her patience with this perverted siscon, and pretty rapidly at that. Not only was he being nosy, he was imaging unsightly scenarios regarding her person like it wasn't such a big deal. The blond was twice as annoying as she remembered; having the threat of death looming over his stepsister dismantled had that effect on him apparently. But maybe she had never really known_ this_ Tsuchimikado in the first place.

…Besides, as the Number One esper, Yuriko was savvy enough to take a page from that third-rate's book – short shorts to prevent any mishaps.

"Go on like this," uttered Yuriko, tapping the black choker electrode on her neck, "and I can do a live demonstration on how it's physically possible to keep a man alive _whilst _shoving his head right up –"

Regardless of the vivid mental image she was painting, Tsuchimikado paid no attention to The Accelerator's threats. Instead, he let his eyes wander to her conspicuous handbag and pointed at it.

"Nyaa, don't tell me you stashed homemade chocolates for Kami-yan in that," said the former GROUP operative with a bared canine tooth.

Yuriko visibly flinched and quivered in her boots. "Wha – that's not – you know that's rubbish!" she sputtered.

"_Right_." Tsuchimikado grinned ear to ear; he adjusted his shades and they flashed with a dangerous light. "And I assume I'm also a moron for thinking something's terribly suspicious with you prancing around with a skirt, am I right?"

"No – I mean – YES! You're most definitely a grade-A moron!" Yuriko blared defensively, her breath mingling in the cold air. "Don't pretend you know everything about me you sister-philandering tosser; I had enough gray matter left in me as to not wear skirts during my time in GROUP, unlike some other trollop I could mention!"

"Huh-huh. Keep rationalizing if that's your thing. But remember that the truth shall set you free nyaa~"

"Oh sod off and shut your stupid mouth, bloody moron," Yuriko hissed with a deep scowl. "Unless you're_ that_ interested in tryouts for that anatomical proof-of-concept experiment."

That's when Tsuchimikado knew it was time to fold 'em.

Before retreating back into his room and skim over a pile of girly mags for next two and a half hours, in wait for Maika's return, he felt inclined to leave his 'lady friend' with foreboding words.

"Word of advice: Try a more _direct_ approach than mere chocolates," the blond suggested. "He has his hands full enough as it is."

With that, Tsuchimikado retreated back inside, leaving a perplexed Yuriko in his wake. At least he had been so kind as to keep the twaddle below WORST levels.

Crabby from having been interrupted on her hit-and-run mission, the albino took a few steps that landed her right at Kamijou Touma's front door. Her heart felt light, like rose petals caught in the wind, though Yuriko systematically denied it was due to any sort of elation regarding the whole situation. At best it was her towering ego having second thoughts. The chocolates were a token of appreciation and nothing else. It'd be simply ridiculous if a girl that had her life changed by a boy's actions could come to like him.

Well, that was hard to do when it was the honest truth… Yuriko wasn't in self-denial over it, even if she denied it outwardly. It was just that it couldn't happen anyway, so why bother buying into it? The albino convinced herself that such a scenario was only fitting for a light-hearted romantic comedy written by loopy authors obsessed with erotic maid costumes. There was no way Kamijou could look at her without remembering the Experiment – that much was certain.

Besides, it was rather clear he was hopelessly clueless about young maidens… And Yuriko had to admit, she had no clue about boys either. The magazines she had swiped from WORST weren't useful at all – at least in regard to the general outlines… For other tips, they were rather refreshing…

Yuriko cleared her head with a firm shake of the head. Her timing was already off, and the last thing the white-haired esper needed was the peanut gallery figuring out the whole thing from her tardiness.

Before knocking, Yuriko rehearsed the process back in her head like some assembly line machinery.

Knock – wait until Kamijou opens the door – stiffly present the chocolates and shove them onto him – leave wordlessly, with a flawless poker face.

_Alright, here I go…! _

Yuriko lifted her free hand and was about to rap at the door – but she couldn't. Strangely, she froze before retracting herself. A jolt of electricity had gone through her brain and she felt painfully self-conscious all the sudden.

_Wait, things would just be awkward with such a cold methodology! Uwaaah, this is so darn complicated! Dork, dork, dorkkk! _

As she dug her nails into her scalp and gnashed her teeth out of frustration over the course of minutes – mentally trialing several pick-up lines in imaginary scenarios, some involving a shirtless Touma gleaming with sweat – the front door was lazily pushed opened by a slumming figure.

"Such misfortune…" Kamijou Touma croaked, hunched over, his feet dragging as if he carried the entire world's burden upon his back. Today had been a straining one for the Imagine Breaker boy. That mess with Fukiyose, Himegami and Aogami was a complete –

Touma's attention was caught by a presence on his side. When he shifted his stuporous eyes, he went face to face with Suzushina Yuriko, who seemed utterly lost in her thoughts and mumbled under her breath.

"Eh, Yuriko-san?" said Touma, blinking profusely. Out of anyone that could've been waiting outside his door, he felt relieved to know it wasn't some crazy magician or esper – or Stiyl Magnus trying to give valentine chocolates to Index.

Despite having reached out to her, Yuriko hadn't acknowledged his presence. She seemed more content with whatever went her mind was mulling over, stuck in a trancelike state.

"…Oi, are you okay?" asked Touma with a wrinkled brow, leaning in close to observe. "You don't look so good. Your face is red all over."

The spiky-haired boy waved his special right hand in front of her face, and then touched the strongest's forehead for any physiological signs of malady.

Actions speak louder than words; the touch snapped the albino out of her reverie, making her spine jump like a spring. Every facial muscle in Yuriko's body tensed, much like her spine.

It was then that Yuriko's smoldering red eyes stared into those aquatic blue eyes of that heroic boy. It felt like a cold shower washed over her on a canicular summer day – it calms you down.

"Uh – hi…" the Level 5 forced out, gulping.

Naturally concerned, Touma inquired, "Do you have some sort of fever going on? You look really hot."

The comment coaxed Yuriko into a non-ailment related coughing fit. For a fraction of a second, she had misunderstood what he meant, before realizing she was actually _blushing_.

"Oh – no, it's nothing," she reassured, rolling her eyes sideways. "Just talking to myself and all… Ha ha ha…"

Touma didn't quite believe her after that. He gave her a quizzical look. "Well, if you say so..."

During the uneasy silence that followed – mostly due to Yuriko overtly forcing a '_I'm fine, really!_' posture – Touma subtly took notice of her appearance. It hadn't taken him long before he noticed how different she was dressed from every other occasion he had seen her so far. In fact, he had to do a double take to make sure this was indeed Yuriko; the lack of a striped shirt really took away from Accelerator's iconography in his mind. Somehow, and only now, he seemed to realize that the albino was indeed a girl rather than some genderless person with a perfect control over vectors.

"I don't want to sound rude," Touma broke the silence, "but what are you doing here Yuriko-san? Can't this wait? I'm kinda dealing with a delicate situation here."

Yuriko raised an eyebrow. "Delicate situation?" The premise piqued her interest. Another one of those convoluted misfortunes had struck Kamijou?

From the way Touma's shoulders sank yet again, she was about to find out the juicy details. "…Remember how you told me my misfortune was a statistical anomaly?"

Yuriko nodded, recalling a conversation they had in a downtime during the fight against GREMLIN. The spiky-haired boy glanced backwards, towards his room, and signaled the white-haired girl in.

"Come here, and explain this with your mathematics…"

Yuriko felt somewhat hesitant about following him inside. All she came here to do was give him chocolates, right? Going in would make the whole 'handing of the chocolates' ceremony that harder on her pride, not to mention make things a bit more unenviable. It would also be incriminating to waste too much time. A certain part of Yuriko, however, pushed her to disregard all this and go ahead.

The strongest esper and the Imagine Breaker boy went in… with some difficulty. The moment she peeked inside the room, Yuriko was struck by awe at the mess before her, swiftly followed by boatloads of pity for Kamijou. What stood before her were hundreds of gift boxes and baskets, of all shape and sizes, littered and stacked in the cramped room. Most were still pristine, while others had been ripped open and devoured by what appeared to have been a wild feline from the clawing patterns on some of the packaging. They were littered everywhere: floors, kitchen counter, bed, stacks balancing on the kotatsu – _everywhere._

Yuriko sadly looked on and pity showed in her eyes. "My apologies, this misfortune of yours is clearly beyond rational comprehension…"

Touma waved his hand dismissively, "Don't remind me… Such misfortune…"

Thinking this type of misfortune was a daily occurrence for Kamijou, Yuriko wanted the hug the hell out of him – purely from a _platonic _standpoint.

The main room was cleared enough to comfortably recline in from the looks of it. So, the two tiptoed around empty boxes littering on the floor – a task made excessively hard for Yuriko.

Suddenly, an ominous rumble shook the misfortunate student's room like mini earthquake.

"Oh for the love of – _**NOT AGAIN!**_"

"What the –?"

"_**INCOMING!**_"

Before she understood what went on, Touma grasped Yuriko's hand and yanked hard towards himself. She yelped and was sent stumbling back along with him while the bathroom door busted open; an avalanche of chocolates was unleashed from its confines and rained down on the entryway. The two had narrowly avoided being buried alive under at least three hundred frilly, heart-shaped packages – a repeat performance for the spiky-haired boy. Yuriko's head reeled from the clumsy fall; she did her best to shake it off and opened her eyes, only to find herself atop of an equally-disheveled Touma.

Right then, the One-Way Road's heart fluttered wildly. _K-Kuh! This is starting to resemble one of WORST's smutty magazines! Deep breaths girl, deep breaths…_

Flustered by her current position, Yuriko flipped over to lean against the nearest wall, legs tucked in. Her handbag's strap slipped from her shoulders to the side, next to her futuristic crutch.

Looking back and seeing the mess, the Number One's eyes narrowed. "What in the – what is with this crap!" snapped Yuriko, catching her breath.

"I wish I knew. I left this morning and everything was in order," Touma recounted with an evident lack of mirth, straightening himself as he did. "Index was out of the house when this was 'delivered'. None of them seem to have a sender – it's all anonymous. So I have no idea who is joshing me."

Yuriko frowned ever so slightly; she now understood what Tsuchimikado had meant back there. "You think it's your oh-so wonderful neighbor?"

"Impossible, he's as broke as me – too expensive for a practical joke," Touma wiped away sweat from his brow. "If it hadn't been for Index eating her way through a good part of these, I wouldn't have even gotten in. And even she couldn't take anymore after plowing through half of them."

"That nun actually stopped shoving food down her throat…" It wasn't a question, more of a stunned realization by Yuriko.

"I know. It's a surrealistic scenario," admitted Touma. "I had the same look as you."

"Where is she now anyway?" wondered Yuriko.

Touma's sweat dropped, "With my homeroom teacher, eating some hot pot…"

"So she just got tired of the chocolates… That's somewhat reassuring."

Touma could only tacitly agree as he let his shoulders sag yet again. To Yuriko, it didn't take a fraction of her neurons to figure out the original source of this specific misfortune. It was quite clearly the Sisters that had pulled this stunt. Surveying the room told Yuriko that the number of gifted chocolate boxes approximately totaled in the thousand range, quite probably 9,968 boxes if she took the time to do a complete count. Though she felt as if not all boxes had been given by the Sisters. Perhaps 'acquaintances' Kamijou had made in the Magic side. God knows what kind of maniacs he had lusting after him…

"So, uh, do you want anything to drink?" proposed Touma, wanting desperately to move on.

"No, I'm alright. I just have to... to…"

Suzushina Yuriko was an impasse, and she was painfully conscious of that. What the hell was she supposed to do now? After all this, the homemade chocolates in her handbag were nullified weren't they?

"Well, I just – I have to – um…" Yuriko twiddled her thumbs idly, feeling her throat dry up. That glass of water was sounding pretty good right now.

"Have to what?" Left in the dark, the spiky-haired boy didn't understand what was going on with the albino. Normally, she had no problem saying whatever was on her mind.

"Well there was _something _I wanted to –" The white-haired girl lifted her eyes from her the pleats of her skirt, only to find the scrutinizing intent of Kamijou's eyes, again. Transfixing and impossible to escape, entirely wholesome. But that couldn't be hers. Now that she had sobered up, it was self-evident that this entire stunt had been pointless from its very inception. There was no way he would care about her chocolates…

"You came here to tell me something, I guess?" said Touma.

Yuriko nibbled on her lower lip and shook her head. "Yeah," muttered Yuriko, "but you've got your hands full already…"

"You don't have to hold back." Touma smiled brashly and carried on. "It could be worse, _much worse_. There are so many things that happen to me on a daily basis that you can't begin to imagine. This might look like much, but I can handle. What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger, right?"

"You're right, but it can leave us bereft and bitter," reflected the Number One morosely.

"True." Touma was smart enough to understand that whatever had warped Yuriko for the Level 6 Shift to be viable must've been a truly horrific example of his assertion.

"Just forget about it; it's daft anyway and you've got your hands full as it is. There no need for you to bother with me," the white-haired girl wistfully let out.

She roused herself back onto her crutch and gathered her handbag with the intent of leaving.

It would've been simple that way, but…

"If you have something to say, you say it," Touma declared firmly. He had to grind down his rhetoric as to stop himself from reciting a sermon. "Well, usually anyways."

Suzushina Yuriko stopped cold in her tracks. Then, she gave Kamijou a puzzling look that he didn't quite catch the meaning of, and the albino turned a bit red.

She unzipped her handbag and dug into it, before pulling out a sleek, black and rectangular package wrapped with a crimson ribbon.

Rudely, she shoved them into his grasp.

It didn't take long for Kamijou Touma to be overwhelmed. "Is this…?"

"See, I told you it was daft," Yuriko sneered, looking the other way; her redness, however, did not fade.

"Before you ask, I made them myself. They probably taste horrible too. The packaging is so tacky and –"

"I don't think so, it really suits your ways," said Touma nonchalantly. "It's really cute."

Yuriko reflexively stared back, in complete disbelief. "…What did you say?"

"I mean, I can see you picking these colors –"

"I know that," Yuriko's tone grew softer, delicate even. "You – you don't hate it?"

"Why would I?" Touma held onto the box and grinned. "At least I know who gave them to me, right?"

The simplicity of his answers ruffled with Yuriko's emotions, the burning of her cheeks intensifying with no end in sight. It made her as blithe as she could get that he liked the chocolates.

"But" – Touma wavered for a second – "why me of all people?"

The albino searched for the right words, but realized that things didn't need to be thought out so much. Going with the flow, unmitigated by logic, would do fine. No need to be fretful.

"I… because I want to thank you – for everything," admitted Yuriko. "If it weren't for you, I'd still be a… a fucking _monster_, butchering my way through life. At first, I deluded myself with convoluted heroic goals, but that time in Russia made me realize what I needed to do to reach what I wanted. For that, I'm… grateful."

It was Touma's turn to be self-conscious. He rubbed at the back of his head, feeling quite humbled. "I did what I felt was right. I'm glad that it turned things around for you."

Yuriko tittered a little. "Well, I really have to go now. Better dig in before that nun gets to them," the white-haired esper warned.

"Will do. They won't go into her black hole of a belly."

Satisfied, Academy City's One-Way Road set out to depart – but then an unbelievably mawkish idea popped in her head. The kind of idea a certain Level 4 would happily sanction. As ridiculously impulsive as it was, Yuriko couldn't help but smirk fiendishly at the idea. Tsuchimikado was right: A more direct approach is needed. Knowing that blond bastard, he was probably glued to the wall and spying on the entire conversation. Well, The Accelerator was about to give him something to chew over.

Unfettered no more, Yuriko leaped in that hero's face, draping a hand behind his back before reeling him in to kiss him right on the lips. Then another one for luck. And a last one out of pure selfishness.

When Yuriko let the spiky-haired boy breathe at last, there were only three words that he could think of at that instant. "What. Was. That?"

Yuriko didn't retort back verbally, instead opting with a mysterious leer. Wordlessly, the strongest esper activated her choker electrode and whisked away at an incredible speed, slamming the front door shut behind her and sending the opened boxes flying around.

Kamijou Touma was left addled, but there was a thought that didn't leave him: That no chocolate could be as saccharine as that had been.

•••

Yuriko still couldn't believe what had happened as she hurried, leaping building to building after having gathered her sweet, sweet coffee – and the vanilla ice cream for her little angel. The teenage albino felt the rush flowing in her veins still. A bunch of questions bounced around in her head, such as if that had been his first kiss, or how things could go from there. One thing she knew for sure is that it was liberating. In a way, Yuriko could understand why WORST instinctively followed her every whims.

Maybe her influence wasn't all that bad. After a slew of acrobatics, The Accelerator had returned to Yomikawa's residence, recomposed and coolheaded – all in time.

Using her powers wasn't part of her plan originally, but she had to for her timing to be unquestionable.

Yuriko went for the main room, carrying the handbag stuffed to the brim with caffeine-related products as her alibi. And the ice cream, let's not forget that ice cream.

Yoshikawa and Yomikawa were still drinking tea and welcomed her back. "Oya," said Yomikawa, craning her head up, "isn't that kid and the hooligan with you?"

"…No? Why would they be?" asked Yuriko, her brow crumpling.

"Well, they left chasing after you," Yoshikawa replied, flipping through a newspaper.

At that very moment, what sounded like a herd of elephants stomping rabidly outside closed in. The front was busted open, and in came rushing the two Misaka sisters in question.

WORST's wheezing, filled with malice voice cackled, "Oh man, did you see that~? Yuriko-nee is so bold~! The Network is going haywire~! Gyahahahaha~!"

"'Yuriko-nee and the First Savior make such a touching couple,' thinks Misaka Misaka as she –"

The two excited sisters stopped in their tracks when they were faced with '_The One That Had Taken The Savior's First Kiss_', as the Misaka Network had named the unruly transgressor.

Like a dear caught in headlights, Yuriko's blood turned ice cold – the intent in Misaka WORST's eyes felt like a Gorgon's.

As one, Last Order and Misaka WORST grinned brightly and gave their thumbs up.

"You go get him Yuriko-nee~!"

"'Misaka will support you no matter what!' declares Misaka Misaka with all her heart~!"

Slack-jawed at being caught red-handed like a complete ditz, Yuriko's face burst into a plethora of unique shades of red.

Then came the last straw.

"Yuriko-nee and Kamijou-kun, sitting in a tree,** K-I-S-S-I-N-G**~!" the two sisters sang out like an irrevocable truth. "First comes love, _then comes marriage,_ _**then comes baby in a baby carriage****~!**_"

"Hah – gah – guh – but – da – ga – GWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Well, as long as you don't get pregnant, everything's fine with us, isn't it Kikyou?" The P.E. teacher said this casually amidst the arm-flailing and wails of the teenage albino crying tears of embarrassment.

•••

The aftermath of the whole afternoon was that Suzushina Yuriko categorically refused to reemerge from 'The Lair' for the remainder of the day.

Perhaps for all of eternity. That was still unsettled in her mind.

However, sheathed deep within a cocoon nimbly crafted with fine bed sheets, Yuriko was jubilant.

Those lovely kisses were worth all this – one-hundred percent, no contest.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

Hey. It's been a long time since I actually finished a piece. I felt like I really needed to do something for Valentine's since other writers at Animesuki said they were doing the same.

And so I return in my crack-laced –

**RUBIX IS A POOPYHEAD NEENER-NEENER~!**

Sorry, that just – just came rushing out y'know? I'm still trying to get over the crushing shame of having been given a lineless cameo in the oh-so brilliantly written comedy (and I use the word 'comedy' as broadly) series known as "To Aru Super SS". I mean _holy shit_ man, didn't you get the memo? There's this really neat thing, called shame I believe, and it is something that exists to prevent this kind of stuff from being shown to the general public.

Hate to say it… but Rubix, you're the Uwe Boll of Toaru fiction: In that we laugh, but only because we think you're kind of pathetic.

Ball's in your court, _poseur boy_.

[**Fatality. Kyon of the Crack wins.**]

Now that we've got that out of the way my lovelies…

As I was saying, I wanted to finish a piece for a long, _long_ time. Unfortunately I have been neglecting Toaru because of my crippling crack addiction (I'm getting better), writer's block, impostor syndrome, and something else which I'm working on which has nothing to do with being a shitfaced weeaboo.

I always figured three things if I was ever going to write a proper Yuriko fic one day: One, she still has to have a pottymouth; two, she needs to be mildly tsundere for Touma; and three, she has to be adorkable. Although making Yuriko casually swear with words like 'fuck' or 'shit' seemed unnatural, I found a good solution: I made her use some British swear words, which actually just makes her sound twice as adorable to me in some twisted manner.

I can only hope I got the characterization for Touma right. That's my only concern, in all honesty, since I'm a flawless writer (unlike Rubix trololololololol). It goes without saying I'm not a fan of him because of the whole 'is literally an unbeatable protagonist whose body is like a Swiss Army Knife full of world-ending powers' thing. Still, he's cute with the right girl; I'll give the fucker that.

If you're curious and want to know, in my 'Yuriko-verse', it's a bit more complicated that just 'Yuriko is canon'. For example, in this Yuriko-verse, Mikoto is a total lesbo with Kuroko (senpai-kouhai with seme Mikoto).

Huh. Perhaps I can make a sequel to this in due time that can show this and other such oddities. Yuriko goes on a first date with Touma?

To next time folks! Which will hopefully be in the near future?

By the way, does anybody else think that TsuchimkadoxWORST could be a good Crack Pairing? Trollshipping – trademarking it. I'm sure Stalker-kun would flip his shit over Backstabber-kun getting a Misaka before him…

...

And Kihara Junior is canon. Yep, that just happened...

...

_**TIMEZ FOR A ACCELERATORXWORSTXJUNIOR FIC~~~!**_


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